


A Szerelem Labirintusa

by Viridescence



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, vampire!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-23
Updated: 2007-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:18:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridescence/pseuds/Viridescence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that the war is over, the wizarding world is regrouping.  Draco and Harry are delegates to an international conference to establish a treaty between wizards and vampires, to ensure that vampires never again have reason to ally with the Dark.  While there, Draco and Harry embark upon a journey of self-discovery, and they must navigate through the maze of their own desires to finally find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Szerelem Labirintusa

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on March 23, 2007, well before the release of Deathly Hallows. As such, it only considers canon through Half-Blood Prince. I'm just now posting it here on AO3.
> 
>  **Title:** A Szerelem Labirintusa  
>  **Author:** Viridescence  
>  **Pairing:** Draco/Harry  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Warnings:** Vampire!Draco, male/male sex, rimming, bloodplay.  
>  **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and the entire Harry Potter universe belong to J. K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Bloomsbury Books, and Warner Bros., among others. No money is being made from this story, and no harm is intended. I just love her universe so much that I have to play in it myself.  
>  **Author’s Note:** This story was written as a gift for mayushi as a part of the Vampentine’s Day fic exchange on hpvamp on Livejournal. The original request was for “ _Harry/Draco would be best, top!Draco, if you decide on H/D. Otherwise – biting (duh), preferably very bloody. Human!Harry, please._ ” Thanks to dacro for the beta, and to her and nefernat both for the brainstorming and plot help. I have never been to Budapest, so I spent quite some time researching this on the internet. I’m sure some details aren’t quite accurate, but I did my best. For more information on the Buda Castle Labyrinth, visit http://www.labirintus.com/ and select English if you can’t read Magyar (Hungarian).  
>  **Note Part Two:** Written and posted before _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_ was published, so only includes canon through Half-Blood Prince.

**A Szerelem Labirintusa**

* * *

“Love is an attempt at penetrating another being, but it can only succeed if the surrender is mutual.”  
—Octavio Paz, _The Labyrinth of Solitude (1950)_

* * *

A short staccato of knuckles sounded on Draco’s office door.

“Come in, Potter,” he called, not looking up from his task.

Harry opened the door and leant on the frame. “How did you know it was me?” he asked, his lips tugging upward.

Draco smirked as he rifled through the papers on his desk. “No one else knocks like that,” he said. It was true, but more than that, he could smell Potter whenever he was within about ten metres. Not that he’d ever admit that, though. He took a deep breath, passing it off as an annoyed sigh. Yes, salt and warmth and fresh autumn air— _Harry_.

“You about ready to go?” Potter eyed him for a moment, then chuckled. “For once I’m ready before you are.” He nudged his bag with his foot.

Draco glared at him through the fringe of his hair. “I’m sure it’s only because you’ve just tossed your things willy-nilly into your bag in hopes of beating me,” Draco sneered. “Don’t ask me for any anti-wrinkle charms, you uncivilised baboon.”

Potter threw his head back and laughed, exposing a long expanse of throat and a handsome Adam’s Apple. _Tease_ , Draco thought, and rubbed his tongue over his canines.

“You’d help me regardless, because I’m your partner at this conference, and Merlin forbid anyone with you look less than stunning.” Potter’s eyes were doing that damned twinkling thing he’d somehow inherited from Dumbledore. Only on Harry, it was maddeningly sexy, even more so since he’d stopped wearing glasses, and because it happened so infrequently. Potter no longer wore his heart on his sleeve like he had at school—he’d become more serious and reserved during the war. Harry only seemed to relax around his closest friends, and sometimes around Draco. They weren’t exactly friends, but ever since they were teamed together during the war, they’d been friendly, if not close, and they worked well with each other.

Draco particularly relished the moments when Harry was unguarded and open. It made his chest ache pleasantly.

“Yes, well, one must have standards,” Draco sniffed. “Ah, here it is!” He placed the parchment he’d been looking for in his briefcase and snapped it shut. Standing to gather his cloak and suitcase, he gave Harry a more thorough examination. Potter really did look very nice, in a fine black wool travelling cloak over navy formal robes.

“Do you approve, oh fashionable one?” Harry smirked.

“Eh… you’ll do,” Draco teased.

Potter snorted. “Snob.”

“Plebeian,” Draco retorted.

Harry grinned broadly. Draco shivered. “Shall we go now?” he asked.

Harry picked up his bag and stepped into the hallway. “They have our Portkey ready in the Travel Office,” he said.

Two flights of stairs later, he and Potter were standing on the Portkey pad, both clutching a book titled, _Budapest: Thermal Waters_. Smart idea, Draco mused, to use a tourist guide for their destination as their Portkey.

“So, are you ready for this?” Harry asked softly as they waited for the Portkey to activate. “You’ve put a lot into this conference. Do you think it will go well?”

Draco frowned in thought. He did have a lot riding on the outcome of this conference, which he’d spent the year following the war organising, negotiating and promoting. It had the potential to improve the lives of all vampires in Europe, and he needed the treaty negotiations to be successful. Honestly, he was quite nervous, but he was optimistic. “The mere fact that all the wizarding governments agreed to attend bodes well.”

“Good.” Harry smiled, and Draco’s stomach did a little flip.

With a yank behind his navel, the Portkey pulled him and Harry away, depositing them after a long blustery moment in the Portkey pad of the conference hotel overlooking the Danube River and Old Budapest.

“Welcome to the Danubius Hotel Gellert, Ambassador Malfoy, Mister Potter,” a beautiful welcome witch said in fluent English with a mild Magyar accent. “I will show you to your suite if you will follow me, please.” She gestured them toward a hall.

“Thank you,” Draco said politely. Potter merely nodded and followed him. Draco knew at that moment, gone was the playful, light-hearted Harry who had been teasing him in his office, replaced by the more familiar, battle-hardened Auror Potter, in control and wand at the ready. Potter would be all business now. Draco couldn’t help but feel a bit saddened by that.

The greeting witch resumed her welcoming speech as they walked through a beautifully decorated corridor. “Here are your room keys,” she said, handing two plastic cards to Draco. “All the rooms are warded against Apparation and have five-layer locking spells. You may add silencing or other security or privacy spells if you desire.” She glanced from Draco to Harry and then gave a knowing smile.

 _If only_ , Draco though wryly, but said nothing. Potter didn’t seem to notice her innuendo; he was paying attention to the room numbers as they walked, probably counting the doors to the exit.

“You can Apparate or Portkey from the room we just left. Your room is set up to allow Floo conversations, but not Floo travel. The Floo address is on the mantle. Here is a map of the hotel; the various conference rooms are marked. Ambassador Malfoy, we have arranged for feeding volunteers nightly in _A Bátorság Labirintus_ , the Labyrinth of Courage, in the Buda Castle Labyrinth, after 9:00 pm. Here is a map with Apparation coordinates and directions for driving, or walking, if you prefer. It’s about three kilometres from here, and a beautiful walk.”

“Thank you,” Draco said again, trying not to chuckle. _Feeding volunteers in the Labyrinth of Courage?_ he thought. _How ironic._

She nodded and continued. “I’m sure you’re well aware of this as you helped organise this conference, but the Hungarian Ministry of Magic will not tolerate any non-consensual feeding by any delegates. So if you need to feed, go to the Labyrinth. There are no Muggles staying on this floor for the duration of the conference, but this is a historical building and a tourist attraction in its own right. So just to be safe, no magic in the hallways. The Gellert Baths downstairs are the oldest baths in the city—you have complimentary access, but be aware that they are very popular.”

She stopped at an ornate double door and unlocked it with a key card. “Here you are, gentlemen. Enjoy your stay, and good luck with the conference. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” She bowed and turned around, presumably to return to the Apparation room.

* * *

Draco stood patiently in the hallway while Potter surveyed their two-bedroom suite. Harry insisted upon checking their room for surveillance spells, hexes or curses, or any other potentially dangerous magic. Through the open door, Draco watched him setting privacy and security wards. Potter’s face was a mask of concentration, his jaw tense and his eyes gleaming. Draco shivered again as a frisson of desire rushed through him.

Draco had nursed a bit of a crush on Potter for a while now, ever since the night he was turned. He had got separated from Potter and their team during battle and pinned up against a tree by a vampire, unable to defend himself due to the thrall and a wand at his temple. “They won’t accept you now, blood-traitor,” the vampire had hissed moments before Potter and Weasley arrived. Draco hadn’t seen what happened next, as his body was burning with the transformation, but he learned later that Harry and Weasley had killed the vampire, and then Harry tended to Draco while Weasley ran for help. He would never forget the way Harry felt, the way he tasted.

That night had changed everything for Draco, even more so than the night on the Astronomy Tower. He had given up so much to change sides in the war—his respect for his father, his father’s love, his home, his mother’s safety, and his juvenile expectations for his future—and he expected to be reviled and rejected by his new colleagues once they realised what he’d turned into. It hadn’t happened, to Draco’s immense surprise. If anything, the Order was more convinced of his loyalty after he was turned than ever before.

Most of Britain’s vampires sided with Voldemort in the war, largely because he promised them rights that the Ministry withheld. The vampire community didn’t care about pure-blood supremacy; blood from Muggle-borns was indistinguishable from blood from pure-blood wizards as far as vampires were concerned. They just wanted to be able to live and feed without persecution, and the Ministry’s antiquated laws outlawing feeding pushed the vampires to the Dark Lord’s side. That fact alone nearly cost the Light side the war.

Once Draco had fully understood this situation, he had vowed to do everything in his power to change the laws. Vampirism was a result of ancient blood magic, a curse that changed the body’s chemistry, metabolism, senses and physical and magical strength. The specifics of that magic had been lost in history, and the curse was irreversible. Draco could do nothing about his own status as a vampire but accept it and move on, but he could do something to ensure that vampires never again had a reason to side against the Ministry.

With the political fallout after the war in his favour for once, Draco had spent a year advocating Vampire rights. Minister Shacklebolt had appointed Draco as the Ministry’s Ambassador to the Vampire community, and he had quickly gained the support of the vampires. Potter, Granger and Weasley had been strong vocal advocates for Draco’s cause, something that had helped him considerably. This conference to negotiate a treaty between the vampire and wizarding communities was the culmination of a year’s worth of work. Potter was an ideal delegate—he could throw off a vampire’s thrall like he could shrug off Imperius—and he was as committed to this cause as Draco. With Potter’s help, Draco knew that they had a good chance of success.

“It’s clear,” Harry said from the doorway, interrupting Draco’s musing. “You can come in now.”

“Thank you, oh gallant one,” Draco said as he stepped past Potter into the sitting room, trying to regain the easy joviality they’d had back in Draco’s office.

Potter snorted, then locked and warded the door behind Draco before slumping into a chair near the fireplace. “Just doing my job,” he smiled. “Which room do you want?”

Draco glanced into each of the adjoining bedrooms and decided upon the one with the larger wardrobe. “This one,” he said, pointing at the one to the right.

Harry nodded. “We’d best get settled in, then. When is the first meeting?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Draco answered. Because both vampires and humans were attending this conference, they had to compromise on the schedule. Vampires who were wizards could attend daytime meeting with little trouble, but it was tiring, rather like when he forced himself to get up at 4:00 am when he was studying for his N.E.W.T.s. As a result, they ended up compromising, with the majority of the meetings scheduled for late afternoon through late evening. The early nights of February meant that the humans wouldn’t have to stay up too late, and the vampires wouldn’t have to get up too early.

Draco set about unpacking. When he returned to the sitting room, he could see Potter in the lavatory, unpacking his toiletries. A book fell from the open bag and bounced out into the sitting room.

Draco picked up the book, a well-thumbed paperback copy of _The Vampire Lestat_.

“You know this isn’t the best source for accurate information about vampires,” Draco drawled, leaning on the bathroom door.

Harry, who had been putting his shampoo in the shower stall, turned around, saw the book in Draco’s hand and blushed.

Draco was instantly intrigued. He couldn’t help wondering why Potter would blush like that over a book. It wasn’t like Draco had caught him with a porn mag. But Harry was an intensely private person, and Draco knew very little about his personal life. For all Draco knew, Potter was married and had kids, but he really didn’t think that was possible. He’d heard rumours that Potter was bi, but if he dated at all, he did a brilliant job of keeping it from the public. Harry seemed more asexual than anything, so Draco had never acted on his crush. He liked his relationship with Harry and wasn’t willing to jeopardise their budding friendship because he found Potter attractive.

“I know that,” Harry said after a moment.

“For one thing, the author is completely wrong about vampires having no desire for sex, thankfully,” Draco said, curious about Harry’s reaction. It was fairly well known that Draco preferred men, but he didn’t date much, not since he was turned. Having sex made him want to feed, and Draco had not found anyone he wanted to share both of his desires with—except Harry, and that was impossible. Potter was so lovely when he blushed, and Draco couldn’t help wanting to see more.

Harry’s eyed dilated minutely and he took a quick, shallow breath, the blush deepening. _Interesting_ , Draco thought.

Then Potter seemed to collect himself. “Can you imagine an eternity without sex?” he chuckled. “I know it’s not realistic, but I like the story and the characters.”

“Have you read the whole series?” Draco asked, wishing he had the nerve to ask about Harry’s sex life.

Harry nodded, not looking at Draco as he dug through his bag. “I have all of her vampire books.”

“I particularly liked the subtle homoerotica between some of the characters,” Draco said, thoroughly enjoying seeing Harry so unsettled.

Harry’s fading blush returned, and he glanced at Draco through the mirror, his green eyes dilating again. “Mmm, yes.”

Well, _that_ wasn’t the reaction Draco was expecting. He was glad he hadn’t removed his robe yet as a rush of arousal flowed through his body. Perhaps there was some truth to the rumours after all. He smiled, fighting to keep it from turning predatory.

Harry returned the smile and took the book from Draco’s hand. Stuffing it back into his bag, he said, “I think I’ll try to get some sleep. I need to prepare for a more nocturnal schedule.”

Draco nodded and stepped out into the sitting room, allowing Harry to leave the lavatory. He didn’t need to rest, but he obviously had some spare time on his hands. “I’ll check out the baths, then,” thinking a relaxing soak sounded lovely. And then he could hop over to the Labyrinth.

Harry shot him a glare. “Stay in the hotel, Malfoy,” he said, apparently having read Draco’s mind. “It’s not safe for you to out on your own. You’re too high profile and there are people who wouldn’t hesitate to sabotage this conference by taking you out. The security here is good.”

Draco bristled. Harry had a point, but he didn’t like being told to stay put. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but this week would be trying, and feeding now would help him get things off to a good start. “Potter, there is security at the Labyrinth, too. They set it up specifically for us. And I am certainly able to defend myself.”

Harry seemed to think on it for a moment, then nodded. “Be careful, then. And don’t go anywhere else. Signal me if you need help. I checked, and the wards on the hotel will allow Patronuses through.”

“Fine,” Draco agreed, knowing he was getting off lightly. Potter took their safety seriously, and there really was no one better qualified for the job.

Potter gave him a little smile, then went into his bedroom and closed the door.

* * *

Draco decided to skip the baths and go straight to the Labyrinth. This was one of the main reasons why he’d decided upon Budapest for the conference. Budapest was a magical place, more so than Paris, even. Located above a large network of thermal mineral waters, Budapest was famous for its baths. Muggles loved the place for the spas, but the waters had magical properties, too, imbuing the entire city with an aura of magic and mystery. Budapest was a centre for healing in the wizarding world. It was fitting that this be the location for healing the rift between wizards and vampires.

But Draco was particularly interested in the Budavári Labirintus, the labyrinth under historic Castle Hill. The thermal waters of Budapest had created many caves, which had served as refuge and hunting grounds for prehistoric humans. Over the centuries, the caves were connected to each other and to the cellars of the houses in the Castle District. Gradually, it became a literal labyrinth, and was later used as an underground military bunker. The Buda Castle Labyrinth became a spiritual centre of Budapest’s wizarding community after it was recently restored, a place where one could chart paths of self-discovery. Muggles saw it as either an interesting or creepy museum, but to wizards, it was a place of spiritual and magical rejuvenation.

The conference organisers had selected the Labyrinth to house feeding activities during the conference because it was isolated and secure, but Draco saw it for more than the practical benefits. He’d always been fascinated with old places, old magic, and the labyrinth represented all of that and more to him. He’d accepted that he was a vampire, but it was just something he had to cope with. Maybe here he could finally embrace it—maybe here he could finally feel complete.

Descending the stairs of the Lovas Street entrance, Draco could feel the magic of the labyrinth envelop him, and he let out a sigh of relief. It was warmer down here than it was outside—the cave stayed a constant temperature year-round, but it was still cool enough that he needed his cloak. He walked down a long corridor, the Gallery. Ancient art decorated the stone walls, lit by flickering torches. At the end of the hall, Draco was stopped by a guide wearing a jacket embroidered with the Labyrinth emblem.

“Are you here for the Personal Labyrinth?” the man asked.

“No,” Draco said, flashing his fangs.

The man nodded. “To your left. _A Bátorság Labirintus_ is the third chamber.”

“What is the Personal Labyrinth?” Draco asked.

“A place of self-discovery,” the man answered. Both it and the Lover’s Labyrinth are open by appointment only.”

Draco nodded and turned left.

* * *

“I still say we should require that all feeding be consensual.”

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. This was proving more difficult than he’d imagined. The wizarding representative from France, Jean Renault, did not seem to understand. Either that, or he understood perfectly, and was trying to sabotage the negotiations by insisting upon impossibilities.

“Mr. Renault,” Draco said with as much patience as he could muster. “While I agree with you in principle, realistically, it is just not practical. We would starve. That’s why we should require that all victims be obliviated.”

The room erupted into argument. Harry caught Draco’s eye and gave him a commiserating look. They’d been at this for hours now, and they hadn’t made much progress.

“Enough!” Harry shouted, and people slowly fell silent. “We are clearly getting nowhere with this discussion. I propose we take a break and come back to this in an hour, when we will all be civil and willing to compromise.”

Renault glared at Harry. “Surely you, Harry Potter, don’t advocate feeding on people against their will!”

“Like Malfoy, I agree with you in principle, Mr. Renault. I also understand that requiring consent will push vampires to choose between breaking the law and starving. We need to come up with a _practical_ solution.”

Renault appeared to boil over. “You have no idea what you are proposing, do you? Just because Malfoy is _safe_ ,” he sneered, “you think all vampires are the same! You have no idea how dangerous they are! The thrall doesn’t affect you! You have no idea what they are capable of! Allowing them to feed without requiring consent is giving them free rein to kill!”

Everyone started shouting at this and the room dissolved into chaos.

“We’ve already agreed no killing—”

“You’re just trying to sabotage—”

“What guarantee do we have that you’ll abide—”

“Just because your brother was killed by a vampire—”

“—should all be destroyed, starting with Malfoy!”

An abrupt silence fell as the shouting delegates suddenly found their voices silenced. Harry stood in the centre of the circular table, his wand drawn. “That is enough,” he said calmly. “We are here to negotiate a peaceful co-existence between wizards and vampires. Mr. Renault, I am very sorry that vampires killed your brother. But you are mistaken if you think I do not understand the danger. I was _there_. I fought vampires; I saw firsthand what destruction they could wreak. And I still believe that the true danger lies in denying them their rights. I suggest that you return to France and send someone willing to work with us to take your place.”

Renault attempted to shout at Harry, but his voice was still silenced.

Harry pointed to the door. “Please tell Minister Delacour that I’ll Floo-call him in the morning.”

Renault made a rude hand gesture and stomped from the room.

Draco tried not to look too triumphant. He could kiss Harry. It was well known that the French Minister for Magic adored Harry Potter. How could he not, when Harry had rescued his youngest daughter during the Tri-Wizard tournament when he was only fourteen? Potter had just single-handedly reminded people of who he was, why they were there, and what they were trying to do. He could have any political office he wanted, should he want it, and everyone here knew it. Draco knew that they still had challenges ahead of them, but the delegates would be more cooperative from here on.

Harry waved his wand again and removed the silencing spell. “Now, I propose we take that break,” he said, sending Draco a smile.

Draco could literally _feel_ his crush morph into something much stronger at that very second, and he had to take a deep breath as people began bustling to the doors.

* * *

Draco collapsed on the sofa in their suite sitting room. Merlin, what a day. The new representative from France was much more flexible, but the negotiations were still difficult. He was feeling drawn, parched. He needed to feed.

Potter came into the room then, his face tense. “The Romanians are still objecting to the Obliviation clause,” he said.

Draco sighed. Every delegation present had agreed, in principle, to the proposed treaty, but hammering out the details had been exhausting. Romania rather liked the mystique of being famous for vampires, and they were obstinately against Obliviating all victims. If they could only see that Obliviation was necessary to protect both the magical and vampire communities—it was more important than cultural mythology. Besides, Draco thought, Transylvania would always be famous for vampires, _in the past_. There was no need to allow stories of current-day vampires to circulate.

Harry seemed to sense Draco’s frustration. “You’ve done a great job with this conference, Draco,” he said. “It’s only three days into the negotiations. They’ll come around.”

Draco gave a weak smile. “Thanks, Potter.” He made to stand up, and his body protested. He could feel the ache of hunger in his bones. And as much as he’d like to, feeding from Harry was not an option. He could still _taste_ Harry, even more than a year later. But he wasn’t even going to consider asking.

“You alright?” Harry asked. “You’ve gone even paler than normal.”

“I need to feed,” Draco said.

Harry shuffled on his feet, looking like he wanted to say something. Draco collected his cloak and headed towards the door. Budapest in February was quite cold. “I’m going to go to the Labyrinth,” Draco said. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”

Potter finally spurred into action. “I’m going with you,” he said, putting on his cloak.

“No, Potter—”

“Yes,” he insisted. “I’m not going to let you go alone.”

“I’ll be feeding, Potter,” Draco said in a tone that suggested he was speaking to a child. “There will be other vampires there, feeding. You’ll be in more danger than I will.”

“You know the thrall doesn’t affect me, Malfoy. I’m your backup; you’re my responsibility. You’re not going anywhere alone. I know you went on your own before, but that was before Renault threatened you.”

Draco normally would have continued to argue. Yes, Harry was immune to the thrall; it was something he personally found very attractive about Harry. He knew that Potter wouldn’t be in any real danger—he just felt uncomfortable having an audience while he was feeding. But he was hungry, and he didn’t exactly want to talk about it. It was leave now, with Potter, or pin Potter to the wall and bite him, which was even more tempting. “Fine. Let’s go. Be on your guard.”

“Always,” Harry replied. Draco wondered if Harry ever got tired of being on his guard—he’d only seen Harry relax a few times this week, when they returned to their suite. Draco’s body throbbed painfully, distracting him from his concern for Harry. He stepped out of the door and walked quickly to the Apparation room, Potter right behind him.

* * *

Draco walked right past the Labyrinth guide this time, not taking time to look at the art on the walls, and turned left, towards _A Bátorság Labirintus_. The feeding chamber was well-lit, and Draco could feel his fangs ache as he smelled blood. The room was filled with people milling about tables and chairs arranged around stone figures. Several sofas lined the walls, and humans who volunteered themselves to the vampires milled about in various stages of undress. It had been like this the first night he came here—vampires often liked to mix feeding and sex. A woman was being fucked on one of the sofas, the vampire feeding from her breast. Another man was bent over a table, a vampire thrusting into him from behind while a female vampire fed from a bite on his inner thigh.

Draco felt a thrum of arousal, but squashed it. He hadn’t indulged the first time he was here, and he certainly wasn’t going to now, not with Harry here. Besides, he would rather get blood and sex from Harry.

 _That’s not possible_ , Draco thought. _Don’t torture yourself. Just get what you need and stop mooning over Potter._

Potter walked a few meters behind Draco, his wand down but ready. Draco knew without a doubt that Harry had sized up every person in the room, checked for inappropriate magic, and had cast a tracking spell on Draco to ensure they didn’t get separated.

Draco could care less at the moment. A young sandy-haired man caught his eye and bid him over. The man said something in Magyar that Draco didn’t understand.

“English,” Draco said. The man shrugged and tilted his head to the side, inviting.

Language wasn’t a barrier for this. Draco stepped up to the man, cupped his cheek, then lowered his mouth to his neck. He could feel ridges of scar tissue under his tongue—this one had been a volunteer for a while. No matter. He sunk his teeth into the flesh and drank deeply as the man hummed in pleasure and leant into him. Warm and coppery, he could taste a splash of wine; otherwise the blood was rather bland. But it filled him, quenching the ache inside him, and that was enough.

Opening his eyes, Draco looked over the man’s shoulder as he disengaged. Potter was standing a short distance away, staring at him. Eyes dark and dilated, Harry’s cheeks were flushed, his breath shallow and rapid. His attention was completely riveted on Draco’s face, his trousers tented. He didn’t even seem to recognise that Draco could see him.

 _Oh my_ , Draco thought, instantly aroused by Harry’s reaction. Curious, he whispered a healing charm against the man’s throat and licked from shoulder to ear to collect any stray drops of blood, watching Harry intently.

Potter’s jaw dropped, and he stopped breathing. His flush spread down his throat. Draco could _smell_ Harry’s excitement from here, distinctly different from his victim’s aroma.

The man in front of Draco moaned and shifted closer, running a hand down Draco’s chest, snapping his attention away from Harry. He took a step back, but the sandy-haired man followed him, pressing his palm to Draco’s groin. Draco shook his head no and pushed him back. The man shrugged and smiled, then walked away.

When Draco looked back at Potter, he had pulled himself together and had resumed his stance as guard, his eyes on an eroded stone sculpture. Draco took a moment to collect himself. _Interesting_ , he thought. _Harry has a vampire kink._ Perhaps being with him wasn’t impossible. Draco decided that this warranted further consideration. Because as much as he longed to taste Harry again, he didn’t think it would be enough.

“Better?” Potter asked him, his voice cool.

Draco licked his lips, showing off his fangs. “Much,” he said, smirking. He could feel his hunger dissipating as warmth spread through him. He wouldn’t have minded taking another volunteer, but this would tide him over for a while.

Harry gave him a stiff smile and nodded towards the exit. Draco nodded his agreement and they made their way out of the Labyrinth in silence.

* * *

“Let’s walk back to the hotel,” Draco said after they reached the surface. “It’s a lovely night, and it’s only a few kilometres.” He looked up at the stars, dimmed slightly by the lights of Budapest, but still clear in the February air.

“Are you kidding?” Harry scoffed. “It’s freezing!”

“Yes,” Draco admitted. “But we’re wearing winter cloaks, and we’re wizards, are we not?” He cast a warming charm on Harry’s cloak before the other man could protest.

Potter merely grinned and rolled his eyes.

“Besides,” Draco continued, casting the same charm on his own cloak, “we’ve been here several days and we’ve been cooped up in that hotel most of the time. I need a break, stretch my legs.”

Harry seemed to give it some thought, then shrugged. “Alright,” he said. “Thanks for the warming charm.”

“You’re welcome.”

They started walking down the hill toward the Danube. Buda Castle was beautifully lit, and Draco took a few minutes to admire the massive architecture as they walked. “We should try to do some sightseeing before we leave,” he said. “I bet the castle is amazing inside.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’m surprised you haven’t been to the baths yet,” Harry said casually.

“Oh, yes, the baths,” Draco agreed. “Yes, that is on my to-do list while I’m here. I haven’t had much time yet, the negotiations have been too encompassing. We should go tomorrow, before the meetings begin again. It might help, being relaxed.”

“I hadn’t planned on going to the baths,” Harry said. “I was more interested in the caves. I’d like to go back through the Labyrinth, actually. I love the ancient artwork. I can just feel the old magic there.”

Draco looked at Harry, surprised. “That’s why I wanted the conference here. I can’t believe that you feel the same way.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded. “I love places like this. It’s the earth’s magic. Besides it being my first real home, that’s one of the main reasons I love Hogwarts so much. The ancient magic in every stone. It feels like that here.”

Something in Draco’s soul clicked, but he couldn’t explain what it was. “We’ll definitely take a tour through the Labyrinth during the day, then. But you should go to the hotel spa and have a massage. It would do you wonders. You’re always so tense, so in control.”

Harry sighed, his shoulders stiff. “I have to be,” he said, oozing resignation.

“It’s tiring, isn’t it?” Draco asked, knowing full well how draining always being in control could be. He’d struggled with that all through school, and finally gave it up during the war. There were better places to direct his energy. But he still had to keep control of himself, of his desires, so all the lessons in control he’d received from his father when he was young did have some benefits.

Potter shrugged. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be the one in charge, the one with all the responsibility. But that’s my job; it’s who I am.”

Draco thought to argue this point but decided against it. Harry didn’t seem to be too receptive at the moment. So he said nothing, instead mulling over Harry’s words as they passed Elizabeth Bridge, its lights reflecting in the dark waters of the Danube.

After a few blocks of silence between them, Potter spoke up. “What’s it like?” he asked softly.

Draco was surprised by the question. “Being a vampire, you mean?”

Even in the pale yellow of the streetlights Draco could see Harry’s blush. “Yeah,” he said.

Draco thought for a moment, wondering why he wasn’t bothered by the question. Normally he didn’t like to talk about it, but he didn’t mind sharing with Harry. Perhaps it was because Harry was there when it happened. “In some ways, it’s very different. In others, it’s entirely the same as it was before. I get hungry, but not for food, and not as often. But I can still eat some foods. I can be up during daylight hours, but it’s harder on me, going against my natural internal clock. I can do some spells wandless, ones that don’t take a lot of power, like cleansing and minor healing spells, when I couldn’t do any wandless magic before. My senses are far more acute—vision, hearing, smell, everything.”

“Really? How so?” Harry asked, clearly curious. They’d never spoken this candidly about Draco’s vampirism.

“I can make out whispered conversations across a room, and I can tell people apart merely by smell,” Draco replied, not going into detail.

“Wow, just like Remus,” Harry said.

Draco nodded. “Yes, in that aspect, lycanthropy and vampiricism have similar effects. But I’m _always_ a vampire.”

“How did you take it, realising what had happened to you?”

“Well, you were there for part of it. I didn’t realise it at first. It took a while for it to really sink into my head.”

“You seemed to handle it okay,” Harry said.

“Potter, it wasn’t until I realised that I was _killing_ you that I was able to get any sort of hold on myself.” The transformation newly complete, Draco was in shock and not in control of himself, when he suddenly recognised that he was drinking Harry Potter’s blood. The understanding that he was a vampire had stunned him enough that he’d pushed Harry away.

“That was my fault,” Harry said, his face pinking again. “I knew that vampires have the least amount of control right after they’re turned, and I shouldn’t have got so close. But I needed to know that you were okay.”

Draco nodded. It was strange talking about this now, more than a year after it had happened. He and Potter had never really talked about what happened the night he was turned. The events of that night just hung between them, colouring all their interactions. Ever since then, they’d become simultaneously closer, yet more distant. They were friendly colleagues, they got along well, all their animosity falling away, unimportant. They worked well together and occasionally hung out together socially, but there was this… _thing_ between them, keeping them separate. For the first time, Draco could sense that distance between them closing, and it felt _good_.

“I was more worried about you,” Draco said after a moment.

“You know, it’s funny,” Harry started. “If it had been anyone else, I would have been fighting for my life. But somehow I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Potter, I attacked you when you were attempting to help me and I drank your blood,” Draco replied, amused. But now that he thought about it, Draco recalled with a jolt of wonder that Harry _hadn’t_ struggled against him.

“I know, Draco, I was there,” Harry said, oblivious to Draco’s surprise. “I can’t really explain it, but I trusted you. I knew you wouldn’t do any lasting damage.”

The blush on Harry’s cheeks flamed brighter, and Draco shivered as he remembered the way Harry’s body had felt against his as he fed, the way Harry had relaxed against him, the way he smelled—salt, sweat, adrenaline, and fresh autumn air—and _Merlin_ the way he tasted. Potter’s blood had surged through him, engraving his essence on Draco’s insides. Draco could _still_ taste Harry. His body thrummed with desire to taste him again, despite being sated from his recent feed. No one he’d ever fed from compared to Harry.

But no, he wasn’t going there. _Not possible, don’t bother thinking about it_ , he thought.

Harry chuckled next to him.

“What?” Draco asked.

“It’s just… I still can’t believe the irony. It took you being turned into a vampire, a supposed Dark creature, for the Order to finally believe you were really on our side.”

Draco nodded wryly. Newly-turned vampires almost always killed their first victim; like Potter had said, they had the least amount of control right after being turned. That was why one of the treaty clauses was supervised turnings, to prevent death. Harry should have died that night; Draco should have killed him. That he hadn’t done so completely quelled any lingering concerns about his name, his history, and his loyalty. Potter had been particularly smug about it, having previously spent hours trying to convince them that Draco could be trusted.

“You trusted me,” Draco said as the thought occurred to him.

“Yeah, from the moment you came to us with your mother, wanting to switch sides, I knew you’d be loyal.”

“How?” This was something he’d always wanted to know but never had dared to ask. “Why did you defend me?”

“Because I was there, Draco, that night on the Astronomy Tower. I saw you lower your wand. You would have changed sides that very night had Dumbledore not died. I know what you were up against, that you were just trying to protect your family. And the best way for you to protect your mother was to come to us.”

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, completely dumbfounded.

Potter stopped a few steps ahead and turned to look at him.

“You were there?” Draco managed, his voice a harsh whisper. He wasn’t very proud of his actions that night, and it was disturbing to know that Potter had witnessed it.

“Yes,” Harry said simply. “That was what made me change my mind about you. It’s why I gave you a second chance.”

Draco wasn’t sure what he was feeling, let alone what he should say. “Oh,” he said after a moment. “I suppose that’s good, then.” That night had been one of the worst nights of his life, yet it set the stage for this friendship with Harry, something Draco was quickly coming to see as one of the best things that had ever happened to him. _Irony_ , he thought wryly.

Harry gave him a bright grin. “Yes, it is a good thing,” he said as Draco stepped up to him. They started walking together again and spent the rest of their walk talking about the treaty negotiations.

* * *

Draco preferred the night. He had no problems going about during the day, not with the spells that protected him from the sun, but he still liked being up at night. He stood on the balcony of their fifth-floor suite, looking out over the lights of Budapest.

Inside the suite, Draco could hear the soft sounds of Potter breathing as he slept. The door to Potter’s room was partially open, but Draco could have heard him even if it were closed, his hearing was that acute. If he focused, Draco could smell Potter’s scent, even over the city air. He’d never forget that smell. 

Draco gave a tense sigh. Despite being up since five that morning, he didn’t think he could easily go to sleep. He was nervous about tomorrow; they were nearing the end of the conference and the Romanians were still being obstinate.

“Mmmmm…” Potter hummed in his sleep. The sheets rustled and the mattress squeaked as he apparently rolled over.

Draco stepped back into the room and closed the balcony door. He walked over to Potter’s door and looked into the room. There were no lights on and the curtains were closed, but he could clearly see Harry’s form under the blankets. 

“Mmmmm…” Potter moaned again and shifted onto his back.

Draco was concerned for a moment; Potter had had horrendous nightmares in the past—he remembered being woken by them during the war, when they were all staying at Grimmauld Place. He stepped into the room intent upon waking Harry, but was stopped in his tracks when Harry’s hand moved between his legs and began rubbing. “Yessss...” Harry hissed.

Draco stifled a gasp and stood dumbfounded as all the blood in his body rushed to his face and then to his groin. Potter was having a wet dream. He shouldn’t be here, it was an invasion of his partner’s privacy, but his feet wouldn’t move. “Leave, Draco,” he whispered to himself. Oh, but how he wanted to watch! He clenched his eyes shut, but he could still hear the slide of flesh against flesh and fabric. He finally managed to take a step back through the door, and then all willpower to leave fled him. 

“Yesss… mmm… Draco… fuck…” Harry mumbled something unintelligible and increased the speed of his hand. The blankets were slowly working their way down Potter’s body as he moved, exposing bare skin and a defined chest and abdomen, a fine line of dark hair trailing from his navel to his groin…

Draco desperately needed to leave—if Harry were to wake and see him standing in the door, watching him masturbate… He flung himself against the wall next to the door, out of view from Harry’s room, but he could still hear every move Potter made. Unable to resist, he shoved his hand into his pyjamas and took himself in hand, squeezing tightly and stroking fiercely.

“Ohhh… fuck…” Harry breathed. “Mmmm… yes… fuck me… mmmm… Draco… bite me… mmm… love…”

Draco came spectacularly in his pyjamas, swallowing a whimper as the waves rocked his body. He gasped for air and rested his head against the wall as he listened to Harry’s orgasm. Harry wanted him to bite him? Fuck him? Oh Merlin, did this change things. Potter had never seemed remotely interested in him, and Draco figured that there was too much history between them for them to ever be more than friendly colleagues. But it appeared he’d been mistaken. Suddenly all the desires he’d been denying seemed possible. His heart pounded in his chest.

He could hear Harry’s breathing gradually return to the rhythmic pattern of sleep. He waited a few long minutes, during which he cleaned himself up with a nonverbal Evanesco, to make sure Potter was really asleep. The scent of Harry’s sex filtered out to him, and Draco felt another surge of desire. It smelled different, but yet the same. He’d never smelled anything so erotic before. He took several deep breaths, memorising the smell of salt, musk, sweat, and semen, feeling his cock return to life and demand attention. Then he tiptoed silently across the sitting room into his room and closed the door. Draco threw himself onto his bed and proceeded to wank languorously to a fantasy of sliding into a begging Potter, biting him and lapping at his blood as he brought them both to climax.

As he cleaned himself up again, Draco decided that he would not admire Harry from afar any longer. No, he would take a risk and see if there could be something between them after all.

* * *

Draco circled the room, flute of champagne in hand, keeping an eye on Harry. He was on the other side of the room, speaking to the vampire representative from Austria, a man with a name that Draco couldn’t pronounce.

“Aren’t you glad this is over, Ambassador? I am.”

Draco turned to the woman next to him, the same beautiful greeting witch who had met them when they arrived. Apparently she had been an assistant to the Hungarian delegation.

“Yes, I am very pleased,” he replied. It was true. Despite the hurdles, all the delegates had signed the treaty that morning. The vampire communities had agreed to no killing of victims, to not turn Muggles, to requiring consent for turning, to supervised turnings to prevent deaths, and to obliviating victims who had not consented to feeding. The wizarding communities had agreed to provide volunteer feeding organisations, to hold vampires to the same standards of justice as wizards, to not interfere with vampire communities or feeding as long as they upheld the treaty, and to prohibit discrimination against vampires. The conference was a success. First thing tomorrow they would go back to London, where the Wizengamot would ratify the treaty.

“You should stay longer, Ambassador. Stay and take some time to see the sights. You should not leave Budapest without taking the time to truly relax,” she said.

“I would like to,” Draco said. He still had not managed to get down to the baths, something he regretted. “But Potter and I have to get the treaty back to Britain tomorrow.”

“So?” she raised an eyebrow. “Take the treaty to London, and then you and Mr. Potter should come back. He needs a therapeutic stay more than anyone else here. You both do. Come back and take some time for yourselves. You both deserve it.”

Draco frowned. She was right, but he didn’t know if it was possible. He would love to come back, and he probably could ask for some time off after this, but he wanted to see what would happen with Harry.

“I’ll see about arranging a return trip,” he told her.

She beamed at him. “Danubius Hotel Gellert will welcome you and Mr. Potter anytime, Ambassador Malfoy. Just let me know and I’ll arrange everything for you.” She handed him her card.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

“You should go talk to Mr. Potter about it. He looks like he could use some distraction about now.”

Draco turned to look at Harry. The Austrian vampire was invading his personal space, his hand stroking Harry’s hair. Potter looked conflicted. From across the room, Draco could see the flush of arousal down Harry’s throat, but Harry was clearly uncomfortable. He couldn’t step away from the vampire; he’d been backed into a corner. Green eyes flashed up to Draco, pleading for help.

Draco didn’t bother saying goodbye to the witch he’d been talking to. Feeling a surge of jealousy, Draco made his way over to Harry, trying not to blast the tables out of his way.

“I’m flattered, really, but…” Harry was stammering.

“Let me show you the joys of being with a vampire,” the man purred.

“I’m really not interested…” Harry said, prying the vampire’s hand from his hair.

Draco finally reached them and pushed the Austrian away, sliding his arm around Harry. “He doesn’t need you to show him the joys of being with a vampire,” Draco said coolly. “He already knows.” Draco nuzzled Harry’s ear with his nose.

Harry looked at him with mild surprise and gratitude.

“You cannot show him all that I know, Malfoy. You are still a fledgling. I have had centuries to perfect my lovemaking skills.”

“That may be so,” Harry said, leaning into Draco. “But I’m not interested. I have all I want with Draco.”

The Austrian changed tactics. “Perhaps you will let me instruct you both, then? You cannot imagine the pleasures I could show you.”

Draco glared at him, baring his fangs. “Thank you for the offer, but we’re perfectly content with each other.” He pulled Harry closer to him, enjoying the other man’s heat.

“Very well,” the vampire frowned. “Your loss.” He walked away.

Draco and Harry stood there for a long moment, still embracing. Draco couldn’t bring himself to let go. Then Harry looked up at Draco through his messy hair, his beautiful green eyes dilated.

And then they were kissing—Draco didn’t know quite how that happened, but he threw himself into it with relish. Harry tasted like champagne, his tongue velvet against Draco’s own. Draco moaned and pressed Harry into the wall, deepening the kiss. This was better than he’d ever imagined.

Harry whimpered and clutched at him, and Draco suddenly remembered where they were. Breaking the kiss, he leant back to look Harry in the eyes. His heart skipped a beat when he saw affection, trust, and desire there.

“Draco…” Harry breathed, biting his lip.

“We can’t do this here,” Draco said.

Harry nodded. “You still have to give your closing remarks.”

“Yes. But we need to talk.”

“Yes, we do. But before you ask, I want this.”

Draco smiled, elation flooding him. “I don’t want something casual, Potter,” he insisted. He needed to know what Harry wanted.

Harry smiled warmly at him. “Neither do I.”

“Good.” Draco kissed him again, wishing they were alone. He tore himself away from Harry’s lips and tried to compose himself. “We’ll continue this tonight.”

Harry grinned at him and nodded.

The witch Draco had been talking to earlier caught his eye and gave him a knowing grin. Draco looked back at Harry, who was selecting another flute of champagne from the nearest table, and had a flash of inspiration. Harry wanted to go to the Labyrinth before they left, but hadn’t been able to break away from the conference during open hours. Draco would rectify that problem tonight. He had a call to make, and he waved her over to him. She would help him make arrangements, he knew it.

* * *

The last gathering of the conference finally broke up, delegates dispersing to their rooms or out on the city. Draco walked with Harry up the stairs to their floor, but instead of heading toward their suite, Draco directed Harry to the Apparation room.

“Where are we going?” Harry asked.

“The Labyrinth,” Draco answered. “You wanted to go back to it before you leave, and we leave early tomorrow. So we’ll go now.”

“Draco, it’s late. They’re closed for tours now. Wouldn’t you rather go to our room?” Harry glanced suggestively at him.

Draco winked. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all arranged.”

Harry gave him a sceptical look, then smiled. “I did want to go back,” he said.

“So let’s go.” He held his arm out to Harry, then they Disapparated.

There were two guides waiting at the end of the Gallery corridor this time, the man Draco had spoken to the first night he came here, and a young woman holding a clipboard. Draco approached them while Harry was studying a stone figure holding a representation of a labyrinth.

“We’re here for _A Szerelem Labirintusa_ , Draco said, pleased he got the pronunciation correct. Necia—he’d finally learnt the welcome witch’s name—had coached him on it enough before the conference dinner broke up.

The woman checked her clipboard. “Mr. Malfoy? And Mr. Potter?”

Draco nodded. “It’s a surprise,” he whispered. “He thinks I’ve arranged a private tour of the Labyrinth.

She beamed at him. “I understand completely,” she said. “I’ll take you the scenic way. Everything is prepared as you requested.”

“Wonderful,” Draco smiled. He couldn’t wait to see Harry’s reaction. He was taking a bit of a risk by coming here, because of what he planned on doing when they reached their end destination. It was fast, yes, and he would be baring his soul, but something in his gut told him it would be worth it, that Harry would be worth it.

“Let’s go, Harry,” he called.

Harry stepped up to them, grinning. “This place is amazing, Draco.”

“It gets better, Mr. Potter,” the guide said. “My name is Onella, and I’ll be your guide tonight.” She handed each of them a lit oil lantern. “Follow me gentlemen,” she smiled, and led them to the right, away from the Labyrinth of Courage.

“We keep the lights lower at night,” she said. “That way you have to find your own way. Budavári Labirintus is a place where you can chart your own path, learn about yourself.”

She continued an obviously well-rehearsed speech on the history of the labyrinth as they walked under reinforced stone arches and past ancient stone figures. Harry seemed very interested, and he stopped and asked her many questions, but Draco didn’t pay much attention. He’d walked through the main pathways after he’d fed the first time he was here, soaking up the ancient magic. He’d seen this already, and now he only had eyes for Harry, the way his skin glowed in the lamp light, the way his vibrant green eyes sparkled with curiosity as he quizzed the guide, the way he kept smiling at Draco… the way he smelled…

They reached a large open chamber and Harry gasped in surprise.

“This is the prehistoric labyrinth,” Onella said. “ _Öskori Labirintus_. The wall paintings here are over fifty thousand years old.”

“Wow,” Harry breathed and set off around the room. There were surprisingly realistic paintings of an ancient bison cow and a bull, and then there was a relief of a strange half-upright antelope-looking creature carved in one wall. Some later person had replaced the head with a clay representation of a human face.

The art was impressive, but Draco was more interested in the expression on Harry’s face. Harry continued to exude delighted wonder as they left the _Öskori Labirintus_ and wound their way through the labyrinth, through the Shaman Passage, and the Path of the Magic Deer.

Several turns later, they came into another chamber with low stone arches and a large square stone basin surrounded by candles. A stone figure stood behind the waist-high basin, posed as if it were pouring the water flowing into the circular bowl.

“These are the Arpadian vaults,” Onella said. “This is the baptismal font… the water is pure and magical, ideal for use in potions, cleaning magical artefacts, or for a revitalising drink.”

“It’s beautiful, Harry said, walking around the font.

“Yes, it is,” Draco answered.

“We’re nearly there,” she whispered to Draco. “We just have to go through the Tartar corridor and then we’re at the entrance to _A Szerelem Labirintus_.”

He nodded and called out to Harry. “There’s a place ahead I want you to see, Harry.”

“Okay,” Harry said, looking interested.

They proceeded through a narrow corridor lined with rough-hewn soldiers holding spears. Onella was going on about the Tartar invasion, but Draco barely heard. His heart was thumping in his throat. He was terribly nervous, but somehow he felt that he was approaching a pivotal moment in his life.

They stopped in front of a closed metal door in an elaborate arch. “And this is your final destination,” she said.

Harry looked at Draco, alarmed. Draco nodded quickly, indicating that it was okay.

“This is what I wanted to show you, Harry,” he said, focusing on keeping his voice even.

“Welcome to _A Szerelem Labirintusa_ ,” Onella smiled. “This is the Labyrinth of Love.”

Harry blinked, and then blushed furiously. “Draco?” he asked.

“This is a place where you learn about yourselves and each other,” she said, apparently sensing Harry’s nervousness. “It is a place where many couples come to declare their love and commitment to each other, where they demonstrate their trust in themselves and each other.” She stepped up to the door and opened it. It was dark inside.

“You must go in separate directions,” she said. “Follow your heart, and you will find each other. You can stay as long as you want. When you emerge, if you need help getting back to the entrance, press this button here—” she pointed to a panel next to the door that Draco hadn’t noticed before “—and a guide will come find you. There are buttons like this in every chamber, if you get lost. Good luck!” she said brightly, and then walked away from them, back through the Tartar Corridor.

Draco turned to face Harry, who was looking completely gobsmacked. “Will you come with me into the labyrinth?” he asked.

“Draco,” Harry started, his eyes bright. “What are you trying to say?”

Draco took the hand Harry wasn’t using to hold the oil lamp. “You said you wanted this, that you didn’t want something casual. I want to know exactly what you mean by that. I want you; I’ve wanted you for a long time now. I want you for everything—friendship, love, sex… I want your blood, Harry. I want you to trust me, to let down your guard for me. And I know you want me. You talk in your sleep.”

Harry blushed a bright red and swallowed. “You heard?”

“Heightened senses, Harry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but I could have heard you even with the door closed.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m willing to give you that, Harry. But it’s more than lust for me. You saw those vampires the other night, feeding and fucking. I want to do that to you, but I want more than sex and blood. I want you to be mine and I want to be yours.”

“And you brought me here to find out what I want, to the Labyrinth of Love?” Harry asked. “So I could let my guard down, take a chance, trust you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” Harry smiled mischievously, spun on his heel, and walked through the door. “See you on the inside,” he grinned, then disappeared to the left.

Draco stood there for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Then a rush of desire slammed through Draco; he dashed into the labyrinth, grinning like a fool, and turned to the right.

He could have found his way without the light of the lamp. The guide had said to follow his heart, and Draco could feel its beat urging him forward. Left, left, right… His body was thrumming now, simultaneous throbs of desire in his groin and fangs. He could _feel_ that he was getting closer.

A soft glow appeared ahead, and Draco skidded under a low archway into a small chamber lit with candles. There was a large white fur rug in the centre of the room with a plush sofa on one side and a bed on the other. Next to the sofa was a small table holding a bottle of wine, a vase of burgundy roses, and a bowl of fruit and biscuits. Another arched entrance was directly opposite Draco. Water cascaded down one wall, sparkling in the candlelight.

It was perfect.

Harry dashed into the room then, breathless, and stared at Draco across the rug. “How did you get here before me?” he asked, stepping forward and putting down his lamp.

Draco smirked. “I’m a vampire, Potter. Heightened physical abilities.”

“That and you just want me,” Harry grinned.

“True.” Draco set his oil lamp on the floor and removed his cloak, laying it on the arm of the sofa. It was warm enough in the chamber that he didn’t need it, thankfully. Plus, it gave him something to focus on besides throwing Harry to the floor.

“Do you know what I want?” Harry asked, also removing his cloak. He was still on the other side of the chamber.

“Tell me,” Draco said, gripping the back of the sofa. He _needed_ to know this, to be absolutely sure about what Harry desired.

“I want to be with someone I trust enough to take care of me. I want to be able to let someone else be in charge. I want someone else to have the responsibility for a while.” Harry moved to the bed and began unfastening his robe.

“I’ve never been with anyone I could relax around. I’ve never had a serious relationship because I could never trust anyone with my heart. No one could see past my name, and meaningless sex with Muggles got boring quickly. But you have always seen the real me—you never cared about my fame. I’ve been attracted to you for a long time, Draco, since you first changed sides. It just didn’t seem possible that you would be interested in me, not with our history. And there was so much else going on with the war, and then you were turned.”

Draco suddenly remembered Harry’s words that night, after he’d sent Weasley to fetch Madam Pomfrey. “Malfoy, you’d better be okay,” he’d said, kneeling down next to Draco and pressing his hand against the bite wound on his neck to stop the bleeding. “Dammit, you _have_ to be okay… please…” His voice had been brimming with desperation, but Draco hadn’t fully comprehended it then.

“You handled that so well,” Harry continued. “It didn’t matter to me that you had become a vampire. You just dealt with it and went on with your life, determined to make a difference. I wanted you even more. But I didn’t know how to approach you—there seemed to be this distance between us after you were turned. You were even more unattainable than before. So I did nothing.

“There are very few people I trust, Draco,” Harry explained and unbuttoned his shirt. “But I trust you. Even when you were not in control of yourself, I trusted you to take care of me. You want to know what I want? I want to be with you, in _every_ way.” He dropped his shirt to the floor, revealing toned shoulders and chest, and held his arms out to Draco, welcoming.

The last remaining doubts in Draco’s mind vanished. They both wanted the exact same thing: each other. He leapt at Harry, launching them onto the bed. He tore at Harry’s trousers, stripping him nude, and then quickly removed his own clothing. 

“Oh, fuck yes,” Harry gasped.

Draco took a long look at the man before him, taking a moment to be thankful that Harry was immune to the thrall, because that way he knew with absolute certainty that Harry was doing this of his own free will. Then crawled on top of him, clasping his hand around Harry’s heavy erection and stroking firmly.

Harry hissed and arched up into Draco. “Yes… please… so good…”

“Mine,” he growled against Harry’s lips, and then he began sucking on Harry’s jaw, his throat, his nipples. Harry fit perfectly beneath him, in his hand.

Harry moaned and writhed. “Yours… Draco… oh god…” He wrapped his legs around Draco’s hips and bucked against him. Hands threaded into Draco’s hair and pulled him down for a frantic kiss.

Draco prided himself on his ability to please a lover while keeping his own desires in check, but he nearly lost all self-control when Harry deliberately cut his tongue on Draco’s fangs. The trickle of blood was only enough to tease him, and he whimpered into Harry’s mouth.

Harry broke the kiss, gasping, “Make me yours, Draco, please…”

Draco sank his fangs into Harry’s throat and moaned. He was _home_. His lover’s blood filled him—this was what his life had been missing. _Harry_. His senses were overflowing with Harry, and Draco knew that he could never be without this man again.

Harry was babbling expletives interspersed with moans of Draco’s name, bucking into his hand. Draco withdrew from his shallow bite—he didn’t want to drain Harry too much—and healed the puncture wound with a whispered spell.

“Do you know how incredible you taste?” he asked, slowing the strokes of his hand on Harry’s cock.

Harry sobbed and thrust his hips into Draco. “Please…”

“I am going to taste all of you tonight, Harry,” he promised. He’d wanted this for so long—he was going to enjoy every second, every inch of Harry’s skin. Draco shimmied down Harry’s body, settling his lover’s legs over his shoulders, and took Harry into his mouth. Harry threw his head back with a loud cry as Draco worked him with his tongue.

He loved the feel of Harry’s cock, the soft firmness, the weight of it in his hand, the way it fit in his mouth. Sucking hard, he brushed his fangs lightly against the head, and Harry exploded into his mouth with a strangled wail, his heels digging into Draco’s back as he rode out his orgasm. _Oh yes,_ Draco thought, this was _his_ Harry, strong, salty, bitter, but still indescribably Harry. He licked up every drop, needing to take Harry’s essence into himself.

“Oh my god, Draco,” Harry panted, his body going limp.

“I’m not done with you yet, love,” Draco drawled, getting up on his knees. “There’s still more of you to taste.” He reached for a pillow. “Lift up your hips.”

Harry obeyed, his eyes blown with lust.

“Now hold your knees to your chest,” Draco instructed. “Keep them up so I can see you.”

The sight of Harry exposing himself nearly sent Draco over the top. Never before had he been so grateful for his enhanced stamina and self control. And for enhanced wandless abilities, he thought as he whispered a cleansing spell. He laved Harry’s testicles, sucking on them gently, and trailed his tongue down to swirl around the wrinkled pucker.

“Bloody fucking hell…” Harry gasped, then took a great heaving breath. He quickly came completely undone, humping Draco’s face, panting and moaning, riding Draco’s tongue. It was all Draco could do not to grind himself to completion against the mattress.

Draco added his fingers then, sliding two of them into Harry and probing for his prostate. Harry nearly arched right off the bed when he found it. Draco sat up on his knees and summoned the vial of lubricant he’d brought with him while he added a third finger.

“Please, love…” Harry begged, his chest flushed and glistening. His cock was bright red and leaking onto his stomach, neglected, as Harry’s hands were behind his knees. “Fuck me…”

Draco suddenly recalled the dream he’d overheard a few nights previously. He hadn’t believed this was possible before then, and as he slid slowly into Harry, he gave a silent prayer of gratitude to all things magic that he had become a vampire.

And then he couldn’t think anymore because his entire body was alive, feeling Harry. Smooth, pulsing heat tight around his cock, strong legs wrapped around his waist, the low rumble in his chest as he groaned in pleasure, _incredible_ aroma of his arousal—and then Harry drew him down for another kiss.

Draco lost himself for a moment in the slide of tongue against tongue as he thrust into Harry, his strokes gradually gaining in force. He shifted his angle slightly, and Harry broke away from the kiss and shrieked, “Right fucking there!”

Draco grinned triumphantly as Harry writhed beneath him, his hips rising up to meet every thrust. “Stroke yourself,” he growled into Harry’s ear.

Harry snaked his arm between them and did as he was told. “Bite me,” he whimpered, his words barely audible. “Please.”

Draco didn’t have to be asked twice. Piercing the flesh just above Harry’s collarbone, he keened in pleasure as blood filled his mouth. Suddenly every sensation was more vivid—the pulsing constriction around his cock as Harry tightened in climax, the smell of Harry’s seed and sweat, and his strangled cries. It all became too much.

Draco’s orgasm seemed to originate in his fangs, then surged through his entire body and collected in his groin, before it finally erupted from his cock into the shuddering man beneath him in electric spurts. It seemed to last forever, and then he collapsed, sobbing, onto Harry’s chest.

The next thing he was aware of was fingers stroking through his hair. His body was tingling pleasantly and his face was buried in Harry’s neck. The entire chamber seemed to be humming with a sense of completeness, of love. It felt wonderful. Lifting up his head, he looked into sated green eyes.

Harry smiled at him, the most open, honest, brilliant smile Draco had ever seen. And he knew that he was hopelessly and completely in love with this man. “Wow,” he whispered.

“That was absolutely amazing,” Harry said, then kissed him languorously for a long minute.

“Understatement of the year,” Draco replied. He’d _never_ experienced such intense pleasure, such _bliss_ in his entire life. And it wasn’t just physical. He felt _whole_ with Harry, secure enough emotionally with himself and Harry to be able to revel in being a vampire. To know that Harry accepted and _enjoyed_ his vampirism.

He shifted off of Harry and felt a jolt of sensation as he withdrew from his lover’s body. “You’re still bleeding,” he said when he saw blood seeping from the wound on Harry’s neck. “Sorry,” he said, then proceeded to lick his skin clean.

“No one has ever done that for me before,” Harry whispered as Draco healed the bite. “You gave me exactly what I wanted, what I _needed_. I’ve never been able to surrender control.” He took a deep breath and swallowed. “Thank you, Draco,” he said after a moment.

Draco smiled and sat on Harry’s hips. “I should thank you, Harry. I accepted the fact that I was a vampire a long time ago, but not until tonight have I ever been truly _happy_ about it.”

Harry sat up and wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist. “I love that you’re a vampire, Draco,” he said. “I love the way you make me feel—I know I’m safe with you. I don’t ever want to lose this.”

“You won’t,” Draco promised. “I’m yours just as much as you are mine.”

* * *

“I wish we could stay here in Budapest for a while,” Harry said as they walked through the stone corridors, hands clasped. They had decided upon going through the rest of the labyrinth before they went back to their hotel. “I never got around to going to the baths.”

“We can stay,” Draco said. “I know we have to go back to London tomorrow, but we should come right back. Take some time off. Necia—the witch who met us when we arrived—she helped me arrange this, and she said she’d hold our room for us if we decided to stay longer.”

Harry stopped to look at a large crowned stone head that seemed to be emerging from the floor. “That is really odd,” he mused. “But cool.” He turned back to face Draco and tilted his head to the side in thought. “I haven’t had a holiday in… well, ever. Even Ron and Hermione have told me to take a break.” He smiled at Draco. “And this conference was a huge success. We deserve to relax after making that happen. But we don’t exactly need a two-bedroom suite now, do we? How long would you want to stay?”

Draco stepped up to Harry and nuzzled his ear. “We should take a proper holiday, Harry, at least three weeks. Just think… sex, massages, mud baths, sightseeing, more sex, private thermal baths, sex in the baths…”

Harry snickered. “And we can go to the Opera, the museums, and explore all the gay clubs…”

“We’ll definitely have to do some shopping if we want to be properly attired for all that,” Draco said, mock-seriously. Well, they would need new clothes, and it would be a fun way to spend time together. “And we can have sex in the changing rooms!”

Harry grinned and kissed him. “Sounds like a plan to me!”

Draco chuckled, then drew Harry close enough to see the lamplight flickering gold-green in his eyes. “I never thought this would be possible, you know.”

“I didn’t, either,” Harry said softly. “But I hoped.” He looked around. “This is an amazing place. We really did find ourselves and each other here, didn’t we?”

Draco nodded, feeling the ancient magic curl around them. “Can you feel that?” he asked.

“Mmm…yes,” Harry replied. “I feel so grounded here. It could be the old earth magic, but I think partially it’s because I love you.”

Draco gasped. He knew Harry loved him, it was clear the moment he had dashed into _A Szerelem Labirintusa_ with a mischievous grin, but hearing it made his heart swell.

“And I love you, Harry,” he whispered, and then they were kissing again. And he knew for the first time in his life that he was truly happy—with himself, with his life, and with his love. _I’m finally complete_ , he thought, wrapping his arms around Harry. _I’m home_.

  
_befejezés  
(end)_  


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